The Editorial Department?! / Lektorat?!

Writers have never been perfect at grammar or spelling: they didn’t need to be, they could rely on their editors and proof-readers to knock their text into shape. These days, many people, including publishing staff, think the spell-checker on their computer does the job. But, even if it’s properly used, it still requires the writer, for his or her part, to have enough knowledge to accept or reject any changes it makes. Disregard this requirement and classic errors creep in: an automatic ‘search and replace’ correction can give you ‘who’ where it ought to be ‘whom’.

It gets even worse when we come to the finer points of language usage. I recently read the following: “He felt the scent of birch shampoo”; and also: “He was sketching a portrait of the Atomium.” In both cases, the context excluded the possibility of these being consciously humorous phraseology. Here are a couple of examples from a much praised best-seller last year: “His production of Fiorenza had its Berlin premiere in Berlin this evening.” And… “His paintings bear the soot of the metropolis like varnish on the forehead.” Years ago one might have regarded mistakes like these with indulgence as simple blunders, or real howlers; today, people don’t even notice them, or else think they show originality. I know it’s not cool, but I pose the question: doesn’t an editor or a proof-reader go through these things before they’re published?

Major authors, ones we’ve long regarded as classic, have emphasised precision in the language they use. Why do we ignore this now? Standard language and artistic freedom may not sit easily together, but one has to master the basics in order to break the mould – and not just in the plastic arts. Obvious mistakes upset me, they distract me from the content of what I’m reading, they break my rapport with the text, even hinder my understanding of it. Anyone who’s struggled through incomprehensible instructions for using some new piece of equipment knows that clear, precise language is essential. So why should we accept sloppily written literary texts? It’s obvious that there’s a readiness to cut back proof-reading on cost grounds and to bear down on payments for editors and proof-readers. But are our publishing houses not proud of their job of protecting our culture? Isn’t it also a question of caring for our language as a part of our heritage? What price now the reduction in turnover tax? Which will also apply to e-books in future!

I can’t escape the feeling that we’re rapidly drifting into amateurism. When I was producing audio books, I had to record re-take after re-take with non-professional speakers. They liked reading out loud and their friends told them they should make an audio book. There was no understanding that their capabilities were far removed from those of trained speakers. The same situation seems to exist with writers: anyone who manages to compose something on their computer, appears to end up with faultless copy. In the days of the typewriter, a mountain of crumpled up paper and the Tipp-Ex bottle were warning signs. Now, the spell-checker does the job: and if a publisher doesn’t bite, then there’s always self-publishing to fall back on.

Many people now think our written tradition is threatened by e-books; but I think, we not only have to conserve that tradition and but also extend it to the e-book. In the end, ignoring cultural standards isn’t restricted to the e-market. A few days ago, I received a message from a promising young author, which ended with the fine phrase: “I’ve attached you further information about myself.” I was reminded of him, when a publisher’s editor wrote to me: “I’ve attached you a press pack.” Am I missing something? I ask myself; perhaps a new version of reformed usage? Or am I just too detached?4